[ And just like that, Yamato feels something sink into his skin. Something razor sharp. He doesn't react fast enough to push Mikaela away, and in this moment, he realizes that something is terribly wrong.
He cries out in pain as Mika starts to feast on his blood. His body goes stiff and he can't even muster the strength to try and force him off (thanks, I rolled a 4). Instead, he starts reclining until he's helpless and on his back, hoping that someone will see this and try to help -- or that it ends sooner than he thinks. His head is already starting to swim. ]
( Ah, he feels at ease. He forgets why he'd been trying so hard to resist at all.
He drinks deep, and starved; three days is his limit, and he'd done five when he'd already come in hungry. Instinct says to drain him. Nothing in Mika disagrees.
But there is a bedside manner, here, that comes to him natural: his grip is rough and bruising where his fingers dig into the back of Yamato's neck and his shoulder, but once he's drank enough that fear of his prey's escape no longer agitates so badly, the hold on his shoulder comes loose, and comes to wrap around Yamato's back, like a soothing hold, like a promise: this will be fine, it seems to say. Don't worry, don't worry. The predator knows how to calm its prey, and take advantage of its weakened senses.
Just relax. The blood tastes better that way. He lets them sink down to the ground as he feeds.
At a certain point he's drank enough that the greedy drinks stem into gentler sips, the blood smeared along the shoulder. It's the wasted blood and the awareness that Yamato's body feels colder now than it was at first that pauses his feasting. His fangs lift, and he drags his bloody tongue along the shoulder to pick up what he'd missed. But...
The scent is familiar, in a way it wasn't before - how could he recognize it? The scent of his blood overpowered so terribly - but with some hunger satisfied, his senses are no longer sharpened solely toward feeding. The world is not as muted. This human's scent is clearer.
He knows this scent. Cologne? He knows the pattern of this blood's flow. It's...
It's...? )
... Ah...?
( Mika doesn't quite let go of Yamato as he pulls back (probably sorta sitting on him, sorry,), but the grip at the back of his neck does loosen, and the arm around him comes undone. His gaze as he gazes down at Yamato is still unfocused - uncertain; possessed by hunger. But there is a light in his eyes, returning. A suggestion of sentience.
But still, his mouth and lips are bloody. There's a sense he's still not fully there yet. )
[ The pain from the bite starts to ease into something more soothing, oddly enough, something comforting and warm -- but the loss of blood is quickly making his head spin. His eyelids are growing heavier. He's dizzy.
Yamato doesn't register that it's over when Mikaela draws his fangs back. He's weak, even with his newfound power.
The light comes back to Mika's eyes. Ah. It's a good look. This is how Yamato remembers him being. He has enough strength to manage a small smile, and he raises his hand...to lightly pat Mika on the top of his head. ]
...Yeah. It's me.
[ A beat. ]
Welcome back.
[ He closes his eyes. Yamato is now unresponsive...but he'll continue to have a pulse. ]
( The touch to his hair startles him, and pulls him from his sweet reverie - pulled back up from drowning, coughing for air. It's not a familiar touch, it's not even someone he can claim to know closely or well, but it rings right in a way that calms him, like a charm, like a melody.
( The calm that warmed him seeps into the night as cool realization settles into his chest. He doesn't remember how— he recalls he'd been clawing at the dirt in the forest, and then— Yamato's scent (his blood, at first, overwhelming all else about him). Fuck.
Yamato feels cold.
He hesitates - no, he feels like a deer in the headlights. He doesn't know what to do. What should he do? What could he do? He doesn't have reason to care about this - human. It made Mika a monster, but he'd killed humans before. Not from feeding, but it'd be inevitable, being what he was.
He had no allegiance to this guy, color aside. He was unlucky. He smiled at the guy who attacked him. He was stupid, too.
( He doesn't care. He doesn't. Because vampires don't care, can't care, can't come to love, so just call this obligation. If there is anything Mika's aware of, it's that he's living on borrowed time: he's twice dead, a spectre. It's not fair that he lives and others die, it never will be. Yamato had things to do. Human things, which would probably cause misery, but—
Why, then? Why welcome him back instead of curse him, or—
He parts his lips, half-crouched beside him as the scent of blood dizzies his still-muddled mind, not fully cleared - even if he's now that much more alert. He begins: )
Donec—
( ...
What was he doing?
Trying to heal him?
Was he fucking stupid?
He's a monster. He can't help anyone. Only hurt.
If there was some spark of magic there, some seedling of hope - it dies there, on Mika's lips. )
( Maybe he should let him die. It was unfair, but it was what it was. Mika considers this, genuinely, for a long moment - but Yamato's pulse persists, like a drum in his ears. It's the pulse of someone who wants to live, he thinks.
...
He doesn't really know first aid, but he realizes stupidly he needs to stop the bleeding, even if it was real fucking late. He presses a palm against the wound and rips off some fabric from whatever he's wearing, which he knows already is going to serve as a terrible bandage, but it'd have to do. He ties it off. It's bleeding through.
He exhales, shaky. He's still hungry. He's still really, really hungry, and he's still partly drunk on blood. He could lose himself to this, he thinks.
What now? He's never tried to save anyone but Yuu-chan before. A part of him still isn't so resolute about doing it, even now. It's just a human. Just a stupid, stupid human. )
( Gingerly (though a touch haphazard and clumsy, because his brain's halfway mush), he eases Yamato onto his back.
He remembers a lot of people being up in this manor at night. That pattern better persist. Stumbling but quick, he's going to get Yamato laid up the common room, where someone will maybe ideally see him and try to help him, and in the interim Mika will go get anyone who doesn't say no to "can you heal" and drag them over.
And then he'll go back to the woods, and find a river, and fill his body with rocks, and fucking drown in it instead of having to deal with this. )
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[ And just like that, Yamato feels something sink into his skin. Something razor sharp. He doesn't react fast enough to push Mikaela away, and in this moment, he realizes that something is terribly wrong.
He cries out in pain as Mika starts to feast on his blood. His body goes stiff and he can't even muster the strength to try and force him off (thanks, I rolled a 4). Instead, he starts reclining until he's helpless and on his back, hoping that someone will see this and try to help -- or that it ends sooner than he thinks. His head is already starting to swim. ]
no subject
He drinks deep, and starved; three days is his limit, and he'd done five when he'd already come in hungry. Instinct says to drain him. Nothing in Mika disagrees.
But there is a bedside manner, here, that comes to him natural: his grip is rough and bruising where his fingers dig into the back of Yamato's neck and his shoulder, but once he's drank enough that fear of his prey's escape no longer agitates so badly, the hold on his shoulder comes loose, and comes to wrap around Yamato's back, like a soothing hold, like a promise: this will be fine, it seems to say. Don't worry, don't worry. The predator knows how to calm its prey, and take advantage of its weakened senses.
Just relax. The blood tastes better that way. He lets them sink down to the ground as he feeds.
At a certain point he's drank enough that the greedy drinks stem into gentler sips, the blood smeared along the shoulder. It's the wasted blood and the awareness that Yamato's body feels colder now than it was at first that pauses his feasting. His fangs lift, and he drags his bloody tongue along the shoulder to pick up what he'd missed. But...
The scent is familiar, in a way it wasn't before - how could he recognize it? The scent of his blood overpowered so terribly - but with some hunger satisfied, his senses are no longer sharpened solely toward feeding. The world is not as muted. This human's scent is clearer.
He knows this scent. Cologne? He knows the pattern of this blood's flow. It's...
It's...? )
... Ah...?
( Mika doesn't quite let go of Yamato as he pulls back (probably sorta sitting on him, sorry,), but the grip at the back of his neck does loosen, and the arm around him comes undone. His gaze as he gazes down at Yamato is still unfocused - uncertain; possessed by hunger. But there is a light in his eyes, returning. A suggestion of sentience.
But still, his mouth and lips are bloody. There's a sense he's still not fully there yet. )
... You're...?
( He knows it... this human. Right...? )
no subject
Yamato doesn't register that it's over when Mikaela draws his fangs back. He's weak, even with his newfound power.
The light comes back to Mika's eyes. Ah. It's a good look. This is how Yamato remembers him being. He has enough strength to manage a small smile, and he raises his hand...to lightly pat Mika on the top of his head. ]
...Yeah. It's me.
[ A beat. ]
Welcome back.
[ He closes his eyes. Yamato is now unresponsive...but he'll continue to have a pulse. ]
several cutscenes will play in sequence...
This is... )
... Good night...?
( Yamato. That was his name. )
no subject
Ah,
Ah? )
—Hey!
( The calm that warmed him seeps into the night as cool realization settles into his chest. He doesn't remember how— he recalls he'd been clawing at the dirt in the forest, and then— Yamato's scent (his blood, at first, overwhelming all else about him). Fuck.
Yamato feels cold.
He hesitates - no, he feels like a deer in the headlights. He doesn't know what to do. What should he do? What could he do? He doesn't have reason to care about this - human. It made Mika a monster, but he'd killed humans before. Not from feeding, but it'd be inevitable, being what he was.
He had no allegiance to this guy, color aside. He was unlucky. He smiled at the guy who attacked him. He was stupid, too.
FFuck. He pushes off him. )
no subject
Why, then? Why welcome him back instead of curse him, or—
He parts his lips, half-crouched beside him as the scent of blood dizzies his still-muddled mind, not fully cleared - even if he's now that much more alert. He begins: )
Donec—
( ...
What was he doing?
Trying to heal him?
Was he fucking stupid?
He's a monster. He can't help anyone. Only hurt.
If there was some spark of magic there, some seedling of hope - it dies there, on Mika's lips. )
no subject
...
He doesn't really know first aid, but he realizes stupidly he needs to stop the bleeding, even if it was real fucking late. He presses a palm against the wound and rips off some fabric from whatever he's wearing, which he knows already is going to serve as a terrible bandage, but it'd have to do. He ties it off. It's bleeding through.
He exhales, shaky. He's still hungry. He's still really, really hungry, and he's still partly drunk on blood. He could lose himself to this, he thinks.
What now? He's never tried to save anyone but Yuu-chan before. A part of him still isn't so resolute about doing it, even now. It's just a human. Just a stupid, stupid human. )
no subject
He remembers a lot of people being up in this manor at night. That pattern better persist. Stumbling but quick, he's going to get Yamato laid up the common room, where someone will maybe ideally see him and try to help him, and in the interim Mika will go get anyone who doesn't say no to "can you heal" and drag them over.
And then he'll go back to the woods, and find a river, and fill his body with rocks, and fucking drown in it instead of having to deal with this. )